


The Wager

by Sambrael



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste/Ladybug Fluff, Banter, Challenges, Chat Noir Being Chat Noir, Chat Noir/Ladybug Fluff, F/M, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, POV Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, POV Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Protective Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Sparring, maybe a kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-09-24 13:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sambrael/pseuds/Sambrael
Summary: Chat decides to bring a little extra challenge to their regular sparring sessions. Could he win a kiss from his lady or lose his right to flirt for a month?





	1. Chapter 1

Ladybug arrived fifteen minutes after their agreed time of 10pm and Chat had the impression that she would have been out of breath were she in her civilian form. Fortunately, the suits gave them the stamina to avoid the embarrassment of being winded when running late for a training session.

“Late again, my lady?” he asked playfully. It was an ongoing joke between them that the one who was late had to bring snacks to the next training session and he was already looking forward to the snacks she owed him from last session’s tardiness.

“Ahh, I was in a good groove with a project that I’ve had creator’s block on for too long, so I lost track of time. I’m sorry, kitty. I brought croissants _and_ hot chocolate, though!” she replied placatingly and knew from the look of glee on his face that all was forgiven.

“Ooh, and macarons!” he said with glee, but then scowled as she lightly rapped his eager hand reaching for one.

“Those are for after training, _chaton_. Have a croissant and we can do some sparring.” One disadvantage of when Ladybug brought the snacks was she had a specific plan for how to eat them. Were it up to Chat Noir, he would scarf down everything at once and slog through training on a full stomach of pastries and sugary drinks. Suppressing his cravings, he took _one_ croissant (well, ok, maybe _two_ would be acceptable? She didn’t stop him, so he reached for a third, quickly retreating from her glare) and tried to eat without choking or covering himself with flaky bits of pastry. It was _hard_ being a carb-starved teenage boy with a hectic schedule and restricted diet!

With a long-suffering smile at his kitten-eyes, Ladybug placed the coveted third croissant in front of him before standing up and starting her warm-up routine. Having already warmed up, Chat tucked into his final pastry (three!), trying to enjoy the show of Ladybug stretching without it being obvious he was watching her.

The old abandoned warehouse was a perfect place for training, with the wide open floorspace for hand-to-hand combat practice and the maze of rafters and even a caved-in wall for climbing and rough terrain training. Being on a locked compound meant little chance of interruption and the movement to overseas production of much of _Gabriel’s_ manufacturing meant that there was little chance of a sudden renovation and utilization of the building anytime soon.

“You wanna spar or just check out my ass all night, kitty?” she smirked through her spread legs as she stretched her hamstrings and Chat realized that maybe his sly observations weren’t as sly as he thought.

“Why not a little of both?” he jumped up and retrieved his staff from behind his belt, idly brushing crumbs off his suit and hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. At least Ladybug didn’t have as good night vision as he did, but then again, she had noticed him checking her out. They’d hung strings of fairy lights to given them enough light to practice without alerting potential security guards on the compound to any unauthorized use of this particular building.

Ladybug retrieved one of the metal poles they kept on hand for staff sparring and they went through a few warm-up practices. After a few months of weekly sparring, the muscle memory of these warm-up exchanges was engrained deeply and Chat found himself paying more attention to the way Ladybug’s pigtails bobbed each time she parried his attack until he felt a dull _thwack_ and his right thumb started to throb.

“Me-owch!” he shook out his hand, trying to banish the smarting pain.

“Pay attention, _chaton_,” Ladybug chided, already positioning herself for the next form. He loved the fierce look she got in her eye when they sparred, but could perhaps do a little less with the exasperation when he got sidetracked by staring too long into those fierce eyes.

Shaking his head, Chat tried to get his head back in the game.

“You know,” he said conversationally as they went through the next routine, “I’ve been thinking of some more ways we could train to prepare for unique akuma powers.”

“Meaning?” She swept her pole across his ankles but he lightly leapt out of the way and brought his staff to bear down on her shoulder while her pole was swinging up. She managed to duck under his attack, but he saw one of her pigtails flip against his staff, marking it a close call.

“For example, remember Vertigo?” He caught her pole in his left hand as it swung toward his hip, but rather than capturing it, he deflected it and used the momentum to swing around to her back, bringing his staff across her chest and holding her back against his front, effectively pinning her arms against her sides in the process.

“Ugh, that one was horrible!” Ladybug dropped her weight (negligible though it was) and managed to snake one foot around his ankle, attempting to trip him up, but he wasn’t going to _fall_ for that trick again. Lightly balancing his weight on his free foot, he pivoted, trying to keep his grip on her but she managed to writhe herself out of his grip even as he kept his footing. They backed up to size each other up once again.

“Well, if we simulated some of their powers, we could develop better strategies to combat them. I could bring a couple bottles of tequila and--”

“Terrible idea,” her fierce smirk reduced the bite of her critique. “Can you imagine trying to get back home afterwards? I’ve only drunk and transformed once and that was enough for me, thank you very much.”

“Ooh, lady, do tell! Did you end up in a dank alley somewhere?”

“Given the frequency of post-akuma battle timers wearing out, I am well familiar with most of the dank alleys in Paris.” Her smirk morphed into a cagey grimace. “No, kitty, I’m not going to relive my drunken shame for your amusement.”

“A-mews-ment?” he responded cheerfully as she launched a new set of attacks.

“Moving on,” she grunted as he bore down on her with a flurry of counter-attacks.

“What about Pixelator? You couldn’t use your right hand or your left leg!”

“You want me to fight you with half my limbs? How would that be fair?” In all fairness, they were evenly matched in most of their sparring practices.

“Well, I’d have a handicap, too, of course. I could be blindfolded, like when we fought Dark Knight!” 

“Even without your sight, your super hearing would be more than a match for poor, hopping and yo-yo-less me.” Ladybug motioned for a pause in their sparring and leaned on her staff, smiling up at him.

“Well, there was Blackout,” Chat got a pensive look to him, then an idea struck. Sure, it would be fun, but how to get her to agree to the challenge…?

“What’s that sly smile for, kitty?” Her suspicions were already up. Chat had to tread this carefully.

“Well, my lady, I was just thinking of Blackout. Do you recall how helpless you were, stumbling around in the dark?”

“I don’t remember being _quite_ that helpless,” Ladybug lightly scowled at her partner’s unapologetic grin. “And as I recall, cats need _some_ light to use their night vision and you were just as blind as I for much of that fight.”

“But,” Chat held up a finger in remonstration, “I compensated quite well with my _excellent_ hearing and smell. I think that fight pushed the balance back into my favor by a few ticks on the ‘who’s saved the other’s skin more times’ scales. Not that I’m counting.” His smirk implied that he absolutely was counting.

“Your point, _chaton_?” she asked dryly.

“Well, I’m challenging you to fight me blind.” He reached down and took the cloth previously cradling those sweet croissants, shaking out the crumbs with a little flourish of his wrist and presenting it to his lady. “It would be good training for you to hone your other senses, listen to your intuition and mind your footing when you can’t look down to check for—"

“And your handicap, _minou_?” she interrupted, primly taking the cloth delicately between her thumb and forefinger, not quite ready to accept the challenge but giving him the benefit of the doubt. “One hand tied behind your back probably won’t cut it.”

Chat laughed. “Not if I’m remembering your blind fighting skills correctly, no,” he agreed, earning him another huff of annoyance. “Well, since you’ll be blind anyways, maybe I’ll drop my transformation and take you on without the suit,” he threw out nonchalantly, maintaining a casual air by calmly inspecting his claws as a lady would her nails. Risking a glance in her direction, he felt a small thrill at the way her jaw dropped in astonishment at his choice of handicap.

“You – you mean, fi-fight me as your … civilian self? We couldn’t do that, I might _hurt_ you!”

He laughed a full throated, rolling laugh that echoed off the cavernous walls. “I don’t think you would, little blind beetle. I happen to be fairly accomplished in combat even as my puny human self,” he claimed depreciatingly.

“Well, you’ve got one up on me, then,” she said frankly. “Without my miraculous, I have all the grace of a pigeon-toed duck. But honestly, _chaton_,” she eyed him appraisingly, “the miraculous lend grace, agility, strength, _and_ protection! I’d be afraid I would accidently hurt you with my enhanced strength if you didn’t have the reflexes to dodge.”

“My lady,” it was hard to maintain his swagger when he wanted to wrap her up in a hug and kiss away all the worry in her eyes. She really did care about him, he knew, but every time she got that concerned look in her eyes, he found a little more hope that one day she would love him the way he loved her. “I’m fairly confident my reflexes can hold up against your blind attacks. But,” here was the tricky part; tread carefully, Chat, “if you feel that I’m at _such a severe_ disadvantage, I’m happy to lay a little wager on the duel.” He couldn’t resist a little eyebrow wiggle and hoped it would goad her on rather than scare her off. At the very least, he was pleased to see the concerned look make way for a calculating suspicion.

“A wager?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes, my lady. If I best you with my weak, civilian muscles and poor, unenhanced reflexes,” he slumped and gave her a pathetic pout, which quickly morphed into a smirk, “you grace me with a kiss.” He took note of her eyebrow shooting up sharply and strove on through his challenge. “_But_, if you best me with your sightless skill and grace, I will refrain from all flirting for a month. I won’t even call you ‘Bugaboo,’ my sweet Bugaboo.”

“And you’ll refrain from eyeballing me during stretches?” she asked pointedly.

“Well,” he huffed, “sometimes the eye is drawn to…,“ that eyebrow was looking sharper and more skeptical “…Fine, I’ll use that very same blindfold if necessary,” he answered primly.

Ladybug looked down at the simple spotted handkerchief in her hand, then up to her partner waiting with bated breath. Her lips pursed in thought, but then her eyes fell on his staff and she smiled. “Ok, _chaton_, you’re on. But what are you going to use for a weapon?”

Chat Noir looked at his beloved staff in dismay. Of course, his transformation would remove his weapon, but he hadn’t been top of his fencing class for eight years running for nothing (well, until Kagami had joined the class, that is). Picking up a spare rod, he tested the balance. Not ideal, but it would do. For a chance to kiss his lady, it would be enough. He smiled and if he perhaps showed a bit more of his sharp canines than usual, who could blame his enthusiasm?

He gestured to the blindfold, “Cover those beautiful bluebell eyes, my lady, and let us begin.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Before we begin, we should lay down some ground rules,” Ladybug paced purposefully across the open ground, holding the handkerchief firmly in one hand. She surreptitiously counted out the paces from one side of the chamber to the other, trying to get a feel for the terrain without showing obvious nerves. Chat’s eyes followed her back and forth, a slight suspicious smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Stupid cat and his stupid confidence. She’ll show him a thing or two. “You’ll be without your staff and my yoyo would be more of a liability than an asset, so let’s even the stakes with equal weapons.” She hefted the rod she’d previously been sparring with, the one she selected most often on their sessions, and absently kicked a loose rock aside. “If I hit you and hear you hit the ground, I want you to signal to me somehow that you’re ok and I haven’t knocked you unconscious.”

“No way I’m giving you extra clues as to my actions, milady,” Chat smirked, his eyes tracking her paces across the room. “My kwami can keep an eye out and signal you if I’m unable to speak.” Remembering her previous encounters with Plagg, Ladybug hoped that he would be open to bribes in order to monitor his chosen’s well-being. A millennia-old god of destruction would probably find a moderate concussion to be merely amusing.

“Fair enough,” she conceded. “Lastly, what determines the winner? I’m not looking to incapacitate you.”

“Nor I you, m’Lady. Do we want to go for disarmed, pinned, or tap-out?”

“Let’s go for tap-out. It lends more flexibility if we’re both disarmed and it comes to hand-to-hand unarmed combat.” Her mind went to the multitude of options for hand-to-hand combat with an untransformed Chat. He wouldn’t have tail or ears for her to get a grip on and tug, but assuming that his hair wasn’t significantly shorter, that was an option (Ladybug wasn’t above a little dirty fighting if necessary) and she’d have more luck grappling with civilian clothes than the skin-tight leather.

“Well, if you have no further stipulations,” he threw her a smirk, “are you ready to get that lovely ass of yours handed to you?”

“Bring it on, kitty.” She carefully folded the cloth and placed it over her mask, tying it firmly behind her head and taking care to keep her ears uncovered. She would need all the accessory senses she could get. She took a moment to adjust her thinking, mentally giving up her reliance on her sight and reaching into herself to distribute her attention and strengths to her other senses. A soft scuffling of steel-toed boots on the cement floor. A soft breeze against her face and the smell of leather and croissants. Striking her hand out, she grabbed the hand Chat had been waving in front of her face, apparently testing the strength of the blindfold.

“I can’t see you, chaton, but I can feel you waving,” she said wryly, giving his wrist a little squeeze before releasing him.

“Well, Bugaboo, since maintaining identities is mainly your idea,” his words were lighthearted, but she could hear the faint echoes of resentment lingering on them, so she played it off, lightly huffing at the remark, knowing he couldn’t see her rolling her eyes, “I suppose I shouldn’t worry too much about you being tempted to cheat. That is, unless you’re just too curious who this cool cat is with his ‘claws in.’” She didn’t expect to _feel_ his transformation dropping, but she knew without hearing Plagg’s voice that the boy under the mask was now standing before her.

“So, you really think you’re a match for her, kid?” she heard Plagg ask.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, right?” Not-Chat replied.

_Honestly, I’m going to just have to refer to him as Chat or this whole thing will get too convoluted,_ she thought to herself.

“Per the Lady’s request, you’ll notify her if she knocks me unconscious or otherwise unable to communicate? There’s half a wheel of camembert back home in it for you,” ‘Chat’ continued to address his kwami.

“You got it, kid. Even without the bribe (which I’m totally taking you up on anyway, by the way), watching Pigtails kick your sorry butt is reward enough. Now if only I had some popcorn.” She heard Plagg’s voice move across the room, hopefully to a good vantage point. “Don’t hold back, Pigtails,” he called encouragingly.

“Hello again, Plagg,” Ladybug called over in Plagg’s direction. “It’s good to … well, not ‘see you again,’ but at least hear you. And don’t worry, kitty-cat here has talked a big talk. Time to put his money where his mouth is.”

“Do you want to go through a few forms to get your bearings, m’Lady?” ‘Chat’ offered graciously and she could hear his replacement staff swishing through the air to her right.

“Well, that is the whole purpose of this farce, isn’t it? To hone our skills and improve our senses?” Ladybug made a few careful lunges in the direction of the swishing, feeling a gentle knocking of metal on metal as he met her practice attacks.

The spent the next several minutes in slow form, the warehouse silent save for the ringing of metal on metal and scuffle of feet on concrete, interspersed with an occasional grunt or gasp. Ladybug drew on all her previous experience sparring against her partner, relying on muscle memory when her hearing and other senses left her wanting, and knew she was doing well when the metal continued to ring against her staff. Occasionally she felt a gentle tap against her ribs or knee, ‘Chat’ giving notice that he could have gotten through her guard and attacked her were they truly fighting to disable. Gaining a little more confidence, she increased the speed of attack, until she felt a soft _thud_ instead of the anticipated metal and heard her partner hiss in pain. She immediately dropped her staff and backed up.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, chaton! Are you ok?” she cried out, resisting the urge to rip off the blindfold and check on him, instead extending her hands blindly in front of her, seeking to feel that he was alright.

“I’m not so fragile, Bugaboo,” he replied cheerfully, and she felt her staff being pressed back into her hands. “But if you think you’re ready to increase your speed of attack, purr-haps we should get this party started?” She could hear him trying his best to cover the slight strain in his voice that said he was still hurting, but knew that he would deny it if she pointed it out. _Kitty pride_, she thought wryly. She even resisted the urge to check with Plagg. Better to save that for if her kitty _wasn’t_ talking to her.

“Give me a moment to catch my breath and you’re on,” she wasn’t winded at all, but wanted to give him a chance to walk off wherever he was smarting. She heard him pacing for a few moments, then decided it was time to get this show on the road. “Ok, I’m ready. To clarify, first one to tap out accedes the match and pays the penalty.”

“That’s the plan. I hope you brought your lip balm, m’lady,” he replied cheekily.

“Not gonna need it, kitty cat,” she taunted back.

“Right as always, Bugaboo. I’ll bet your lips are soft and sweet any time of day or year,” he throws back at her.

“Maybe you should be worrying about your own lips, kitty,” Ladybug focused on following his voice, honing in on how best to attack when their little verbal spar morphed into the real deal. “Come to think of it, I honestly doubt you’ll even make it a month without flirting,” she challenged. “We’ll have to add a week for every slip of the tongue.”

“M’lady, if I were you, the only slip of the tongue I’d be worried about is—”

“Chat!” Ladybug blushed furiously, telling herself that it was more flushed with outrage than anything else, but hearing ‘Chat’ _and _Plagg (traitor) cackling from opposite sides of the room said they weren’t buying it either. “For the record, _no tongue!_”

‘Chat’ continued to wheeze in amusement, leading Ladybug to conclude that he was over their sparring break and ready to engage.

“Ok, kitty cat,” she said, setting her feet in a wide stance and gripping her staff firmly, “bring it on.”

Initially, she’d been concerned about the dirt and loose gravel scattered around the warehouse, but hearing the scuff of ‘Chat’s’ boots where normally they’d be silent made her re-think those concerns. She felt more than heard the swoosh of his approaching staff and raised hers up to meet it, hearing the satisfying _clang_ of metal meeting metal. Falling back into the familiar muscle memory honed by hours of sparring practice with her partner, she soon found herself giving more ground than she was taking, her feet slowly backing into, if her memory served, a large pile of cement bricks where one wall had partially caved in years ago.

Adjusting her retreat trajectory to a less complex corner, she decided to take a risk and made a sudden dive forward and to the left of her opponent, trying to get under his guard and behind him. Coming up into a crouch, she swept her staff around hopefully, but seconds later heard his feet hit the ground as he avoided her low attack. Knowing what would probably come next, she raised her staff quickly to her right shoulder avoid the blow from above, but while she’d heard _where_ he’d landed, she failed to anticipated _how_ he landed and felt a quick, hard blow to her left ribs as his attack came the other end of his staff. Fortunately, she was practically invincible in her suit and even had he used his full strength (heavens, she hoped that wasn’t his full strength, it felt like a love tap), she was at little risk of even a bruise. That being said, when she made a quick jab with the butt of her staff where she last sensed him and felt a contact that went _thud_ and “oof” instead of _clang,_ her reservations about a super-charged Miraculous wielder against a soft and squishy civilian increased tenfold.

“I’m ok, I’m fine!” ‘Chat’ called out before she could even voice her misgivings, but his voice was strangled and breathy, like she’d knocked the wind out of him. She heard a little limping step and took a deep breath.

Ok, so ‘Chat’ wasn’t going to use his full strength because (1) he didn’t have it without Plagg and (2) even transformed, he never could bring himself to give his all against Ladybug. And Ladybug wasn’t going to use her full strength against ‘Chat’ because (1) she could seriously kill or maim him and (2) no, that was about it – just the one really good reason to pull her punches, as it were.

Or just avoid punches altogether. Honestly, saving civilians from the chaos of battling miraculous wielders was the main reason they did this job. Civilians just aren’t equipped to match up to the strength and agility of magic.

Ladybug lowered her staff, her shoulders sagging. “Chat, this isn’t going to work.” Feeling her way across to her partner, she gently found his face and cradled it in her hands. She heard his breath catch as she leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek before turning around and walking away. If her intuition was right…she pulled off her blindfold and saw the expected window directly in front of her. Taking care not to turn her head and catch untransformed ‘Chat’ out of the corner of her eye, she threw her yoyo at the window and took off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, who ordered the angst? This was supposed to be fluff! *sends it back to the kitchen*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, there's some gruesome imagery in this chapter. 10+ years as a nurse has done a number on my "ick factor" threshold. Apologies for anyone not a fan of burn wounds.

Adrien watched Ladybug drop the blindfold and retreat without a backward glance. Not that he wanted or expected her to glance back; he would have been quite shocked if she had. But as he stood there, his fingertips brushing his cheek where he could still feel the pressure of her lips, he wished he could look into her eyes and know what she was thinking. Was she disgusted at how weak he was without his miraculous powers? Was she worried about him? Then why leave so abruptly?

Adrien slumped down against a pile of rubble, kicking his feet out in front of him and huffing in frustration. Why was he so upset? It’s not like they had a _fight_ or anything. Well, I mean, technically yes, but there wasn’t an _argument_. His fingertips lingered on his cheek as he wondered if there was maybe a trace of lip gloss or even chapstick there. Technically, he’d won; _technically_, he’d gotten a kiss. So why did he feel like such a failure? He’d been involved in enough fencing matches to know that one’s opponent shouldn’t forfeit after first contact. It’s not like she’d even hit him that hard, it had just knocked the wind out of him for a second. But the tone of her voice was so disappointed. Once again, Adrien-him had disappointed someone important to him. Was Adrien-him destined to be the useless one? Was Chat Noir the only part of him that made a difference? What was he without the ring?

Plagg floated down and Adrien absentmindedly tossed him a wedge of cheese before he could ask for his referee fee. The kwami caught it, downing it in one gulp, then came up to Adrien’s eye level.

“You ok, kid?” Plagg asked, his flippant attitude cracking with an undercurrent of sincere concern. Adrien knew the little cat-god was more sensitive and caring than he’d like people to know, so he didn’t point out that he noticed.

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, laying back against the dusty ground. Father would have a conniption if he saw the dust and stains on his designer clothes, so Adrien was briefly grateful for wearing some generic sweat pants and a t-shirt he’d borrowed from Nino and never given back. “I mean, I’m still not sure where things went wrong. It was just a little graze!” He pulled his shirt up, showing a red mark that would no doubt be a bruise on his ribs tomorrow. He mentally thought of the upcoming photo shoots he had and was grateful they were approaching the Autumn line shoots so he could avoid modeling swimsuits with a difficult-to-cover bruise. Those always elicited difficult conversations with his makeup artist as he tried to pass it off as a sports injury and convince her to just _not mention_ it to Nathalie.

On a whim, he took out his phone and took a quick shot of his side, making sure to frame it to avoid any identifying features, forwarding it to the drop box where he could retrieve it from the screen on his baton when transformed. Maybe if he could show Ladybug that she didn’t really hurt him, he could talk her into a rematch. He took a deep breath, testing the expansion of his ribs and felt confident that it was only a bruise, no cracked ribs. It’s not like she’d been attacking with full force. She’d been pretty obvious that she thought him to be a pathetic opponent unworthy of her full strength and skill.

Calling for his transformation, Chat made his way to the window to vault back home when his eyes fell on the box of macarons, apparently forgotten by Ladybug in her haste to leave. His previous excitement for the little cookies was gone, leaving a twist in his gut that left no room for his teenage appetite. What good were cookies if he didn’t get to share them with his lady, watching as she laughingly chased the crumbs dropping off her lips and down her chin? The sweet crumbly shell and creamy buttercream were made all the sweeter for her company and he didn’t want to taint the memories of their favorite treat with this feeling of shame and disappointment.

He almost just left them, but then thought about the ants and rats enjoying what should have been _his_ cookies, and at the last minute he scooped them up, tucking the box close to his chest as he vaulted home with his other hand. Macarons kept well for a few days, right? Maybe he had time to make this right.

ooOOoo

The next day found Chat Noir and Ladybug fighting a fire-based akuma. Chat dodged and swung around the Eiffel Tower, mentally wracking his brain for his cache of fire-based puns. By pure luck, he missed a plume of white-hot flame that melted the support beam next to him, causing the iron tower to groan and lean slightly to the west.

“Whoa, careful there!” he called out flippantly, “my lady already thinks I’m hot enough!”

“Hot headed, more like,” he heard her grumble just in his range of hearing as she crouched behind the elevator, trying to figure out the solution to her Lucky Charm, a picnic blanket. Her eyes darted around the scene until she got that “lightbulb moment” that Chat lived for. Landing softly beside her, he awaited her direction.

“Ok, kitty, here’s the plan. I need you to come from the left, kick up as much water as you can from that fountain, and I’ll –” they both yelled and threw themselves away from the white-hot beam of fire shooting between them, melting yet another support beam and causing the tower to lean further.

Hoping Ladybug would be able to execute the rest of her plan with his blind participation, he quickly made his way over to the fountain and started kicking the water up and onto the sidewalk. Glancing up through the cascade of water, he watched as Ladybug swung around, using her blanket as a parasail when she released her yoyo from its anchor point. Chat felt a strong wind pick up at that moment and watched with horror as the fire monster turned towards Ladybug gliding off course, right towards his outstretched hands. Without thinking, Chat extended his staff, shooting himself towards the fray and pushing Ladybug out of the way of the steel-melting beam of fire. He heard her shout and –

\--woke up on the ground, wrapped in a red polka-dotted blanket like a little Chat burrito. He tried moving his tightly wrapped arms and legs and didn’t find much purchase.

Everything. Hurt. Peeling his eyes open, he was met with the furious and concerned eyes of his lady, barely six inches away from his face. As the rest of his senses slowly came into play, he smelled a horrible burnt rubber and meat smell, mingled with burnt hair and hot asphalt. He tasted ash in his mouth, trying to wet his lips with a bone-dry tongue. He noted his lady’s mouth was moving and tuned his ears in to hear what she was saying with such passion.

“…could have gotten yourself killed! Again! I need you to be more careful, I barely got us through this time and when you got hit—” Ladybug cut off and he noticed how ragged she looked, char marks along one side of her arm, her pigtails askew, and tears tracing a clean path down soot-stained cheeks.

“Better me than you, m’lady,” his voice came out gravely and hoarse. “I’m already blackened.” His signature Chat grin pulled a scab that he hadn’t noticed crusting on the side of his face and he felt a pull and then blood dripping down his chin. Ignoring the sting and the way her eyes followed the blood now splashing onto the asphalt, he doubled down on the charm. “But I like this look much better; I always knew I’d look good in spots. But may I ask the occasion for the wardrobe change?”

“BECAUSE YOU WERE ON FIRE, YOU STUPID CAT!” Ladybug angrily wiped away the tears on her cheeks, leaving horizontal streaks to contrast the vertical ones.

“Well, I’m glad you were there to put me out. But I’ll always carry a torch for you,” he tried to wink but his dry, smoke encrusted eyes weren’t cooperating. “You want to toss this Lucky Charm and reset the game or leave me here in a snug … little … _purrrrrrrrrrito_?” The wink wasn't working, so he went for an eyebrow wiggle instead.

He could tell by the way her eyes hardened at his flippant attitude that she was considering yanking the blanket and sending him tumbling, but as he braced for the inevitable jarring lurch, he felt her hands gently start to unwrap him and saw her wince every time the blanket pulled melted suit (_and was that his skin? he couldn’t feel what should have been an agonizing pain_) away with it. He could practically see the white knuckles of her clenched fist through the red gloves, as she averted her eyes from his wrecked body and threw the blanket up in the air with her trademark “Miraculous Ladybug!” to send a wave of healing ladybugs rushing around the city and enveloping Chat Noir and Ladybug in their gentle ministrations. He took an experimental breath and didn’t feel the need to hack up soot, so he felt confident in leaping lightly to his feet and holding his (whole and gloved) fist out for the celebratory bump. Ladybug’s back was to him, her fist still clenched but held stiffly at her side, leaving him hanging.

“Pound it?” he ventured, hoping to draw her out of her head and back to him.

“You’re lucky I don’t pound_ you_. What were you thinking, throwing yourself in the fire like that?!” Apparently, she was still stuck on that little detail.

“I mean, obviously you were about to be turned into a crispy beetle and I thought I’d save you the hassle of _dying._ You know, so you can save the day?” he tried for nonchalant, but the words came out bitter and sharp. “It’s not like I can capture an akuma and I wasn’t looking forward to _paw_ing through your blackened remains for your earrings to do the job.”

Said earrings took the opportunity to chirp, letting the heroes know their time was limited. Chat kept his fist out, a gentle plea for their bump to show their solidarity. Avoid his eyes, she lightly tapped it, an tacit apology, before swinging off into the afternoon.

“I’m not as weak as you think, m’lady,” he whispered after her retreating figure before turning and vaulting in the opposite direction.

ooOOoo

When Adrien landed lightly in his bedroom a few minutes later, easily dropping her transformation and throwing Plagg a wedge of cheese in one well-practiced motion, he had a brief thought and immediately sat down to open the Ladyblog. There, it all its glory, was the gruesome footage of Ladybug unwrapping Chat from his cocoon (_purrito_, he corrected. Cocoons are for _butterflies_). He took a screenshot of one of the more graphic points and forwarded it to his baton drop box.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Alya’s home number. As he hoped, her big sister answered.

“Anansi,” he started.

“Alya’s not home right now, twerp,” she cut him off

“Actually, I was hoping to ask you a question,” he crossed his fingers that she didn’t just hang up. Anansi had an unpredictable temperament. “I was thinking of getting into MMA fighting and was wondering the best kinds of protective equipment to buy.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ladybug arrived early to their next sparring session. There hadn’t been another akuma since the fire monster and she hadn’t had a chance to really apologize to Chat for her outburst. Having had some time to cool down (_no, don’t say it like that; he wouldn’t be able to resist the plethora of puns from that low hanging fruit_) she realized how much she’d overreacted to seeing him hurt. It’s not like he hadn’t taken a hit or three for her before, but the smell of _burning Chat_ flooding her nostrils and the screams of pain she’d heard before wrapping him in her Lucky Charm and stashing his passed-out form safely until she could defeat the akuma on her own kept coming back to her. She knew he was saving her from her own poorly planned attack, but that just made her guilt all the heavier.

Slinging the bag from around her shoulder, she started laying out an apology pastry feast. One thing she’d learned about Chat is that his feelings were closely tied to his stomach and a well-timed croissant could send him to the moon or bring him to grateful tears. She’d often gotten the impression that he came from a well-off family, but at times like that, she wondered whether his family in fact struggled to put food on the table. No child should go to bed hungry and she was happy to raid the day-old “donations to the food kitchen” box to feed her starving kitty. _The food kitchen could handle a very light box this evening_, she thought as she laid out the cookies, buns, and a slightly squashed cake.

She turned at the sound of her partner landing softly behind her, noting that he was a tad early for their arranged meet-up time, as well. She watched as he gave her a startled look, no doubt surprised to have been beaten for once, and another wide-eyed look as he surveyed the feast she had laid out on a green and blue picnic blanket (she’d almost reached for the usual red and black checkered one, but the horrifying memory of Chat’s _suit and skin_ peeling off a similar blanket made her dive deeper into the linen closet for this one).

After a charged moment of staring, Chat threw her his signature grin and walked to a spot about ten feet away from her impromptu picnic, slinging his own duffel bag onto the ground. She watched, bemused, as he took out a tripod, which quickly extended into a portable projector screen. Next came a small projector and stand, which he situated closer to the picnic. She briefly noted a piece of masking tape over a “Property of -------- Industries” sticker on the side. He zipped the still-bulky duffel bag up and dropped it with a clattering _thunk_ next to her picnic cloth. Unsure where he was going with this setup, she chose the safe route of humor.

“If I’d known you were bringing a show, I would have packed some popcorn, Kitty,” she ventured, hoping she would enlighten her as to his motive for the setup. Casually, she tossed a creampuff in the air and caught it in her mouth, holding up a second as an offer to lob one to him. He turned to her and with a brittle grin, flicked the button on the projector, instantly making her choke on her pastry and crush the second in her gloved hand.

The first picture was of their fight the previous week, with a horrible closeup that had featured prominently in her dreams for the last several nights. Chat’s grimace, her eyes filled with horror and dread, onlookers averting their eyes, blood everywhere.

_Click_

Another picture, this one from Miraculer, of Chat Noir curled up, wincing from being the victim of his own _cataclysm_.

_Click_

A photo of Chat being hurled against a building, the stonework cracking behind his head.

_Click_

Chat disappearing as Timebreaker absorbed is essence and erased him from existence.

_Click_

“Stop!” Ladybug covered her eyes, not wanting to look at the next grisly demise of her partner.

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

“One more, My Lady,” his tone was somber as he clicked through the slideshow of her failures as a partner.

_Click_

“There,” his voice sounded satisfied and Ladybug peeked warily from between her fingers.

A bruise. A bruise on a bare torso, just a hint of a grey t-shirt at the edge of the photo. It wasn’t even a very large mark, a few centimeters in diameter. This wasn’t something an akuma had done in one of their battles. This was a mark _she_ had left on her kitty. And one that wasn’t erased by a Miraculous Ladybug cure, either. Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes and she fought to keep them from spilling over.

She felt a gentle hand take hers, plucking a squashed pastry from her limp grasp and gently wiping away the mess of cream and chocolate on her palm.

“Ladybug,” he said formally, his voice gentle. “I’ve been in sports and physically challenging situations most of my life,” he said, trying for vagueness in his reassurances. “I know my limits. I know when to play it safe and when to push myself. What I need is for _you_ to trust that I will _tell you_ when I reach that limit, and not to limit me out of your own fears.”

Ladybug finally looked up into his viridian eyes, seeing their sincerity and fervor before a twinkle over took them.

“Besides, I think you were actually getting better at blind fighting,” he said with a grin. “A few more hits like that and I might actually have had to admit that you’re … _almost_ a match for me.” Smirk.

Ladybug took a deep breath, glancing at the photo lingering on the projector as she slowly let it out. Partnerships were built on trust and theirs had been sadly out of balance far too often. She couldn’t give him her identity, she couldn’t even share the identities of their allies or the location of Master Fu’s studio. Frequently, she kept him in the dark regarding battle plans simply for lack of time or fear of him being brainwashed. Somewhere, she had to give up control and let him set a few rules. Somehow, she had to learn to trust his knowledge of his own limitations, reckless as he seemed most of the time.

It was such a small, insignificant mark, marring what was otherwise a flawless chest. She took a sharp breath and shook her head to clear _that_ particular thought away. Nice pectorals or not, he was still just her silly partner with an inexplicable appetite for punishment (and _pun_ishment, ugh). _Trust_, his words echoed. Fine, she could trust him to tell her if he thought she might actually hurt him. A few bruises were part of the package, after all. She herself had nursed a few aches after they’d sparred before.

“And…” sensing her resolve crumbling, Chat rushed over to the duffel bag and hastily zipped it open, revealing a collection of padding and a soft helmet. “If you’re so worried about this soft, squishy kitty, I brought an extra layer of protection so you can wail on me without fear of marring this Adonis body.” His flexing and posing were over-the-top comical and Ladybug had to laugh.

Chat could sense victory on the issue and casually reached across the duffel for a croissant, bringing it to his lips. With lightning speed, she deftly snatched the pastry out of the poor boy’s fingers and tossed it back into the basket, laughing at his crestfallen expression.

“Treats are for winners, Kitty, and if you want your sweets, you’re gonna have to earn them,” she calmly whipped out the handkerchief covering the sticky buns, ignoring the slightly sticky feeling as she wrapped the cloth around her eyes. “Ok,” she turned in his direction, “lose the suit and put on those pads. Let’s go for a little hand-to-hand this time.”

There was a brief silence and she heard Chat let out a little cough.

“Lose the suit…for some hand-to-hand---ouch!” Blindfolded or not, she knew exactly where to punch to hit him on the shoulder. She hoped her glare would translate through the handkerchief in response to his snickering laugh. “Fine, I’ll _de-transform_ and we can engage in _unarmed combat_,” he clarified.

She heard Chat mutter the de-transformation phrase and a rustling that indicated him putting on the pads and helmet. “I only bought the helmet new,” he said conversationally as the rustling and zipping sounds continued. “I figured I could repurpose my fencing gear for the rest of it, but the mask can be cumbersome and not designed for powerful hits.”

After a few minutes, she felt his hand take hers, leading her away from the picnic and presentation corner (“After all, this fight is going to be a _cakewalk_ without actually stepping in the cake!”) before gently turning her by the shoulders to square off across from him, hopefully. She trusted Chat to at least start the fight on even ground.

“Otay,” Chat’s voice came out thickly; it sounded like he’d snuck a pastry while her eyes were closed. “Ahm puhging ih gis moufgarg fo oo gon’k grake gy gorgeouf fgniah.”

“What?” Ladybug was completely lost. How many croissants did he have in his mouth? She heard him spit something out and suppressed a shudder.

“I said, I’m putting in this mouth guard so you don’t break my gorgeous smile. While I’d appreciate you avoiding the face for personal and professional reasons,” _professional reasons? _“should you get in an accidental hit, this should reassure you that I’ll be just as handsome for that kiss.” She heard him re-position the mouthguard and ready his stance.

“Ok, kitty, give me just a minute to focus my senses before we begin,” she asked, taking a deep breath and honing her ears, nose, and that elusive _intuition_ to a higher awareness of the room and her opponent. She caught the slight scuffle of his shoes, a whisper of fabric rustling as he shifted his weight, a munching sound off to the side where she assumed Plagg had settled to watch. She could smell the lingering cinnamon and vanilla from the sticky buns on the blindfold, the musty air of the abandoned warehouse, and faintly camembert cheese from Plagg’s direction. Feeling at one with her awareness, she gently whispered “Begin” and rushed to engage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already had this half written when I posted the last chapter, so don't go getting any *expectations* or anything - grad school classes start up again on Monday! (sorrynotsorry)


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